Hm. The blog seems to be up again. Which I means I’ll have to post something.

I’m late to the job tonight. Busy at work—I’m finishing up a project. And I mowed the lawn for my exercise, because the lawn needs must be mowed soon, or else I must acquire me a goat.

If I don’t post tomorrow night, please be compassionate. I’m signed up to provide refreshments at the Viking Age Society meeting, and there may not be time to do that and blog too. If I miss Friday, I may do a penance post on Saturday. Or not.

Depending on how guilt-ridden I am.

Got the following by e-mail this morning:

Wednesday 2 April 2007

Dear Lars,

I write to you concerning the 1892 Norwegian-built replica of the Gokstad in Chicago. I have been observing its situation for so long and would like to see this ship, with its World heritage values, restored and in a good home.

How is our Viking ship? Has her fate been worked out yet? I’d be pleased to know what you think of my suggestions to saving the Viking. Could you help?

I have undertaken research into the story of Viking and included this in my article, along with a few suggests to help Save the Viking >< (({(o>

http://web.mac.com/kim.peart/iWeb/Site/Save_the_Viking.html

I have been wondering if there would be scope for a living aspect to the home of the Viking, such as the building of a new Gokstad Viking ship, to the standard now set at the Roskilde Viking Ship Museum in Denmark. The new Viking ship could then be sailed on the Lakes. Perhaps this might be the key to saving the Viking, making it a more exciting project overall. What do you think?

This link is a recent news film-clip of the Viking ><(({(o>

http://cbs2chicago.com/video/?id=30441@wbbm.dayport.com&cid=48

I am now making a monster outreach, to find out what is happening with the ship and see who in the World would also like to see the Viking restored and in a good home. Many good-hearted efforts have, amazingly, come to naught to date and the decay clock on the timbers of the ship are ticking away in Chicago’s severe weather. Perhaps everything is wrapped up now and if this is the case, great, but I feel we should not take any more chances with the fate of this important ship with World heritage values.

I have $10 sitting in my model of the Gokstad. If a million people would also put $10 on the table, this will be the swiftest way to restore the ship, ensure that it is in a good home and provide funds for interpretation and education, which could include Viking culture and Scandinavian traditions. If a million people are prepared to speak up for the Viking, such numbers will ensure that the ship is safe.

Could this work?

I will be looking for an appropriate organisation that will put up a dedicated web site for the campaign to Save the Viking, which can receive donations, including my $10.

I have included a few simple thoughts for the campaign in the article and have many more to offer should a campaign get up and running. If there is a need to and the support is there, I would be prepared to go to Chicago to help drive the campaign.

It would be great to hear your views on the matter and what you think should and can be done. I hope you can help to Save the Viking!

Yours sincerely,

Kim Peart ~ Tasmania

I’d like to help this guy, but it sounds like a job for somebody good at promotion. And think I’ve demonstrated to the satisfaction of all that I’m the worst promoter in the world. Maybe one of our readers wants to pick up this worthy project. I’ll also talk it up to my fellow Vikings. As far as my personal limitations permit.

I close with a link to a wonderful quotation from Wittingshire. Thanks to Kathryn at Suitable For Mixed Company for the link.

As you pray for people in our country and the world today on our National Day of Prayer, you may entreat the Lord on behalf of some families you know.

Related links:

“What if someone said a mother is optional in a child’s life?”

The Natural Family: A Manifesto

“I don’t think you can understand Shakespeare, that you can understand a great deal of literary allusions or that you can understand a great deal of Western civilization without understanding the role of the Bible,” says a former Western civilization teacher, and so the state of Georgia has approved material for teaching the Bible in public high schools.

I know the thought police have told us since we were in a preschool that if we don’t separate church and state our country is going to hell in a handbasket, church being defined as anything remotely related to the Lord God as revealed in the Bible. But I hold that citizens of our English-speaking country should have at least academic knowledge of biblical literature for the same reasons given by the teacher above.

Would it be horrible chauvinism to say that it’s hard to imagine anywhere in the world where May is nicer than right here in Minnesota? We pay for this weather, sure. Winter is a six-month spinal tap, and it gets hotter in the summer than it does in parts of Florida (I know because I’ve lived in both places).

But May. May has the long, cool, gentle fingers of a lovely woman. She caresses you with them. She strokes your hair, kisses your cheek and asks you if you want her to get you anything from the kitchen. She’s a good girl, May. I’d marry her if she’d have me, and if she’d just stay put.

Which brings up the subject of marriage. To your amazement, I’m not going to gripe about my own single blessedness, not tonight anyway. I want to talk about marriage in the abstract.

This month’s Smithsonian Magazine includes a section called “Destination America,” in which they showcase some interesting regions in the country they consider worth visiting. One of them is The Berkshires in Massachusetts.

The article includes a photograph that’s a real grabber. It was taken at The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge. In the background is one of Rockwell’s classic paintings, Marriage License. It’s a charming depiction of a young couple, he in a suit, she in a dress (it was painted in 1955), making out their license application. The desk in the little municipal office is high. The young woman is standing on tiptoe, carefully filling out the form. The young man, much taller, is stooping down over her shoulder, watching closely.

But in the foreground of the Smithsonian photo is a contemporary couple. They’re dressed in Goth clothing. They’re both generously pierced, and she has an extensive, serpentine tattoo on one bare arm. He’s hugging her from behind.

The photographer clearly meant to be provocative with this one. And he provoked me.

Is there anyone who really, in their heart of hearts, believes we’ve made progress in going from the couple in the painting to the couple in the photograph?

Oh, I know there’ll be the ideologues who’ll lecture us about how Rockwell depicted an oppressive, patriarchal social structure, and how it’s glorious that these young people now feel free to express themselves any way they choose, unfettered by the stuffy conventions of the Eisenhower age.

But do they really believe it? In their hearts of hearts, would they really prefer to have their children grow up to be like the Goth couple than like the Rockwell kids?

I can hear someone saying, “It’s academic. Rockwell’s world never existed. It was a fantasy Americans created to flatter themselves.”

Yeah, well, Quentin Tarantino’s world doesn’t exist either, but it doesn’t keep people from using his films as a cultural reference.

If Rockwell didn’t mirror something, in our hearts if not in our lives, his work wouldn’t be iconic.

Let me reduce my thesis to this statement: Killing beauty is never a good thing.

Would it be horrible chauvinism to say that it’s hard to imagine anywhere in the world where May is nicer than right here in Minnesota? We pay for this weather, sure. Winter is a six-month spinal tap, and it gets hotter in the summer than it does in parts of Florida (I know because I’ve lived in both places).

But May. May has the long, cool, gentle fingers of a lovely woman. She caresses you with them. She strokes your hair, kisses your cheek and asks you if you want her to get you anything from the kitchen. She’s a good girl, May. I’d marry her if she’d have me, and if she’d just stay put.

Which brings up the subject of marriage. To your amazement, I’m not going to gripe about my own single blessedness, not tonight anyway. I want to talk about marriage in the abstract.

This month’s Smithsonian Magazine includes a section called “Destination America,” in which they showcase some interesting regions in the country they consider worth visiting. One of them is The Berkshires in Massachusetts.

The article includes a photograph that’s a real grabber. It was taken at The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge. In the background is one of Rockwell’s classic paintings, Marriage License. It’s a charming depiction of a young couple, he in a suit, she in a dress (it was painted in 1955), making out their license application. The desk in the little municipal office is high. The young woman is standing on tiptoe, carefully filling out the form. The young man, much taller, is stooping down over her shoulder, watching closely.

But in the foreground of the Smithsonian photo is a contemporary couple. They’re dressed in Goth clothing. They’re both generously pierced, and she has an extensive, serpentine tattoo on one bare arm. He’s hugging her from behind.

The photographer clearly meant to be provocative with this one. And he provoked me.

Is there anyone who really, in their heart of hearts, believes we’ve made progress in going from the couple in the painting to the couple in the photograph?

Oh, I know there’ll be the ideologues who’ll lecture us about how Rockwell depicted an oppressive, patriarchal social structure, and how it’s glorious that these young people now feel free to express themselves any way they choose, unfettered by the stuffy conventions of the Eisenhower age.

But do they really believe it? In their hearts of hearts, would they really prefer to have their children grow up to be like the Goth couple than like the Rockwell kids?

I can hear someone saying, “It’s academic. Rockwell’s world never existed. It was a fantasy Americans created to flatter themselves.”

Yeah, well, Quentin Tarantino’s world doesn’t exist either, but it doesn’t keep people from using his films as a cultural reference.

If Rockwell didn’t mirror something, in our hearts if not in our lives, his work wouldn’t be iconic.

Let me reduce my thesis to this statement: Killing beauty is never a good thing.